


Exposure

by un-shit-yourself (fenix_down)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Eating Disorders, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exhibitionism, Handers Reverse Bang, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Modeling, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 06:33:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15067259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenix_down/pseuds/un-shit-yourself
Summary: Isabela worked on posing Anders against the wall, facing the camera, but he still hadn't looked up from the ground. Hawke peered around the camera, looking him over and watching how he fidgeted and only nodded at whatever Isabela said.Then Anders glanced up and it felt like Hawke was pinned in place. His eyes were ringed in eyeliner, honey dark and intense, staring directly at Hawke instead of at the lens. There was something sad in his eyes behind his focused expression, something that made Hawke want to pull the coat tighter around Anders and tuck him against his chest. Possibly even kiss him.Hawke ducked back into place quickly; he knew he was blushing and only hoped the camera hid enough of his face so no one would notice.





	Exposure

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Handers Reverse Big Bang, inspired by queen-schadenfreude’s [ amazing art ](http://queen-schadenfreude.tumblr.com/post/175312185278/isabela-worked-on-posing-anders-against-the-wall)

Anders was nothing like Hawke expected.

Having worked in the fashion industry for years, Hawke knew that there were mostly two types of models one could work with. The first was eager to please and vapid, and the second was arrogant and dismissive. Hawke had heard rumors of Anders’ reputation and figured he was cut from the first batch; the man was supposedly a diva, out for himself and willing to do lewd photoshoots (or if the rumors were true, lewd acts) in order to make a name in the industry. Hawke had never worked with him or the other half-dozen models they'd booked before, and this shoot for Isabela and Zevran’s new clothing line was supposed to last a few weeks. He hoped that at least that he could keep out of the way of most of the bitchy behavior that usually accompanied models working together.

Varric had offered him and Fenris the photography job for cheaper than they normally took, with the promise that Black Lotus would hit it off big after their publicity shoot and they'd get further compensation in both advertising sales and prestige. Fenris had called him an idiot for agreeing, but Hawke knew Varric wouldn't back a losing wager. Also, he owed the man for getting him started all those years ago, back when he realized that art photography didn't make the bills. He'd been one step from going to _wedding_ photography, for Maker’s sake. He'd do whatever favor Varric wanted as repayment.

Anders arrived on time, which already gave him points in Hawke's book. He was dressed simply in jeans and a jacket with sunglasses over his eyes. Hawke noticed he was nervously picking at the lid to his coffee, but never actually drinking from it. Even with the jacket, Hawke could tell he was thin, just on the edge of underweight.

_Please don't let him be on drugs_ , Hawke thought; that was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

“Nice to meet you,” Hawke said as Varric introduced them. He held out his hand, and Anders took it hesitantly. His grip was fragile. “Garrett Hawke. That's Fenris over there, he's the other photographer.” He gestured over his shoulder at said partner, who looked Anders over disinterestedly and went back to tapping on his phone.

“Hi,“ Anders replied. Hawke couldn't tell where exactly he was looking because of the sunglasses, but it wasn't anywhere above his chest. He seemed nervous, but not in a tweaker-way. More like he expected Hawke to hit him.

Once Hawke realized it, he let his guard down and adopted a friendly smile. He knew he could be intimidating without trying to be with his build. “So, you're going to be dealing with me for a while, and just to warn you, I tell excellent jokes.”

“He doesn't,” Varric said.

“He's jealous,” Hawke insisted.

There was a hint of a smile, but it vanished quickly. Anders toyed with his coffee and cleared his throat. “I'll keep it in mind,” he said, “Do I have a trailer? I'd prefer quiet between sessions.”

That was as much a dismissal as any, and Hawke decided that maybe Anders was aloof after all. At least he'd be fun to look at, he reasoned, as he watched the model walk away. He _was_ gorgeous, with his red-blond hair and strong nose. Odd that he didn't seem to take stock in it, though. Most models were so conceited they'd fight each other for a chance to check their hair, but Anders avoided eye contact and didn't seem interested in checking his reflection. His posture also seemed off, like he was ready to bolt at any second.

“What do you make of Anders?” Hawke asked Fenris later.

“Not much,” Fenris replied, and gave Hawke a suspicious frown. “Why?”

“He's just…. I dunno. Kind of weird, I guess.”

“They all are.” Fenris finished examining his camera and set it down, simultaneously fishing his vape pen from his pocket and ducking out of reach of Isabela as she appeared from nowhere to flail excitedly at them.

“This is the best! I can't wait!” She clapped her hands and bounced precariously on her platform heels. Her girlfriend Merrill was doing the makeup for the shoot and had evidently been practicing, as Isabela had an intricate, glittery butterfly on her cheek. “I know Varric said that he'd pay you, but I'm very willing to show my appreciation too, hot stuff.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Hawke.

“I'm good” Hawke replied “Fen?”

“Ugh.” Fenris exhaled clove-scented vapor, rolling his eyes.

“Your loss,” she huffed. “Did you meet Anders yet? He barely said anything to me. It must be the butterfly. After all we've been through, too.”

“You know him?” Hawke asked. Not that he necessarily _cared_ , he just wanted to satisfy his curiosity.

“Knew him years ago,” Isabela clarified. She waved a hand. “Don't know him now, he's all quiet and shy and moody. He used to be a lot more fun, let me tell you. Had this _amazing_ trick he could do with his….”

“Stop,” Fenris said quickly.

“None of you are any fun.” Isabela pouted and walked away. Hawke wanted to ask her more about Anders, but figured he should wait until Fenris wasn't around to provide commentary.

 

* * *

 

The first shoot Hawke had with Anders, he realized he was going to be in trouble.

Anders was wearing a ridiculous black coat with feathers all around the collar, one of Zevran’s creations. It was huge on him, with Anders having to pull it back onto his shoulders every few minutes as it slipped while he got into position. He had a dark blue silk shirt on underneath and black trousers, but you could hardly tell around the coat. Anders currently kept it wrapped around him like he was freezing, his fingers in the feathered lapels, escaped blond hair from his loose ponytail falling into his eyes. He should look silly, but he didn't. He didn't at all.

Isabela worked on posing Anders against the wall, facing the camera, but he still hadn't looked up from the ground. Hawke peered around the camera, looking him over and watching how he fidgeted and only nodded at whatever Isabela said.

Then Anders glanced up and it felt like Hawke was pinned in place. His eyes were ringed in eyeliner, honey dark and intense, staring directly at Hawke instead of at the lens. There was something sad in his eyes behind his focused expression, something that made Hawke want to pull the coat tighter around Anders and tuck him against his chest. Possibly even kiss him.

Hawke ducked back into place quickly; he knew he was blushing and only hoped the camera hid enough of his face so no one would notice.

After the shoot, Varric casually asked him what he thought about Anders, not wilting when Hawke fixed him with a suspicious glare. “He’s fine,” Hawke said, and turned away in time to see Fenris share a knowing look with Varric.

He had better be well compensated for this project.

 

* * *

 

It took Hawke a few days to understand that Anders’ aloofness was nothing more than a defense mechanism. He seemed to vanish between shoots, always checking his phone with a furrowed brow, and didn't say much to anyone outside of affirming that he understood instructions. But he wasn't rude; it was more like he didn't want to inflict his presence on anyone. Hawke had some experience with emotionally wounded people. The signs were easy to spot.

He tried to always give Anders a smile and a joke when they worked together, and though the man was verbally unresponsive, his expression started softening around Hawke and his shoulders lost some of the tension he always seemed to carry. Hawke counted it as a victory.

He was hanging out by the craft services table when he overheard Anders’ name in conversation. He paused in filling a plate with leftovers to try and listen, the two voices belonging to other models they'd contracted.

“Walking around like that, as if he doesn't have a care in the world. How shameless. Did you hear about when he was in Amaranthine, how he'd slept his way into modeling for the Grey Wardens’ catalog? Wasn't even on the list, and then showed up one day like he belonged there.” Hawke saw the auburn haired model from Starkhaven sitting with a blonde from Denerim, who was telling the story just loud enough to be obviously overheard.

“Yes, that was right before he ruined Thekla’s career, wasn't it?” Sebastian glanced over at where Anders was sitting on a bench, away from everyone else and staring at his phone. “He gives us all a bad name by behaving like that, as if we're all willing to suck cock to get where we want.”

Anders’ eyes stayed on his phone, but Hawke saw him wince. _Fucking bitchy behavior and not even a week in_ , Hawke thought. It wasn't the first set of rumors he'd heard flying around the set, but it was the first time someone had ever talked about Anders in such derogatory terms in front of him. He set the plate he was filling down and walked over to the models.

“How about two you shut up and go back to wardrobe?” Hawke asked.

Cousland looked Hawke over, saw the set of his jaw, and decided that she didn't want to argue. Sebastian just rolled his eyes. “I only take orders from you if I'm on camera.”

“It’s not an order, it's a suggestion that you should strongly consider. I'm tired of hearing you talk shit.”

“What's wrong, hoping he’ll fuck you, too?”

Hawke stepped closer to the table, purposefully looming over him. “Fuck. Off.” He left no room for discussion, and Sebastian evidently decided he wasn't going to back down. He left muttering about how Varric would hear about this, and Hawke shot back, “Damn right, he will.”

Hawke retrieved his plate and walked over to Anders, who was blushing and not looking at him. “Mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead,” Anders responded quietly, setting his phone down. After some hesitant silence, he said, “You didn't have to do that.”

“Nah, I think I really did,” Hawke replied, picking at a sandwich. “People shouldn't talk about you like that, they need to mind their own business.”

Anders shrugged. “I'm used to it.”

“Even more reason why they should stop.” Hawke found he was less hungry than he thought after looking over the questionable deli meat that had been sitting out for hours, and set the plate aside. “They're just jealous ‘cos of how good you look.”

That almost earned him a smile. “If you say so.”

“Yep. I can keep saying it too, if it'll make you happy. I'll even break Sebastian's nose, though it might be purely a selfish act on my part.”

Anders laughed a little, finally meeting Hawke's eyes, and Hawke grinned. “I'll let you know if I need something to cheer me up.”

“Good,” Hawke said.

Their conversation was cut short by Anders’ phone ringing, the man visibly flinching at the tone. “Excuse me,” he said, quickly getting up and walking towards his trailer, Hawke barely making out a shrill voice on the other line.

 

* * *

 

Varric had Hawke's back, of course, and word quickly spread that anyone harassing Anders (or anyone else, Hawke was quick to justify) would find themselves kicked off the shoot so fast their head would spin, so the overall mood on the set lightened every time Hawke and Anders worked together. Which was becoming more and more frequent, as it seemed they worked well together. Hawke was able to bring Anders out of his moods with his patience and his friendliness, which helped his performance on set and improved the quality of Hawke's work. Fenris made a comment about Hawke finally finding his muse, and Hawke couldn't do much to dispute that. Looking over the results, he felt more than just a little inspired with his work, especially when Isabela had Anders wearing anything revealing or tight (Hawke had no idea how they'd even gotten Anders into those leather pants the other day, but he had been sorely tempted to ask Anders if he could help get him out of them.)

Meanwhile, Anders continued to be absent at random times when not actively modeling, and always had his phone within reach. There was speculation that maybe he had a girlfriend he was keeping in touch with, but he never looked pleased when he came back to the set. This felt like something different to Hawke, who was reminded of how Fenris had to constantly check in with an abusive ex and be available at all times, at all hours of the day, adhering to a strict schedule in order to placate him against accusations of infidelity. In the end, Fenris had wised up and gotten out with Hawke's help, but it had taken time to convince him that what Danarius was doing wasn't normal.

At the end of the week, Hawke was invited out to drink with Isabela and some of the others. Without prompting, she added, “You should see if Anders wants to come,” and gave him suggestive eyebrows.

“Phrasing,” Hawke muttered.

“That was the point,” she replied, exasperated.

There was still a light on in Anders’ trailer, so it looked like he hadn't gone back to his hotel. Hawke approached the steps and almost knocked, but heard him talking inside and caught his hand above the door.

“Yes, I wrote everything down for today…. Yes. I know, I should have only eaten half… No. Of course not.” Anders went silent, and Hawke heard him sigh after a moment. “You're right. I'm sorry. I'll do better tomorrow… I'm sorry. I know.” Hawke could hear the edge in his voice even through the wall, so he decided it was a good time to interrupt. “No, I'm not talking back, I just… Just a sec, someone's here.”

The trailer door opened and Anders peered around it, eyes widening. “Hawke?”

“Hey,” Hawke said casually. “Isabela wanted to know if you wanted to grab a drink with us. Just a chance to relax, you know?”

“Oh.” Anders looked down. “I don't think I'd be much fun”

“Don't sell yourself short.” Hawke wanted to ask who he was talking to on the phone that made him so nervous, but knew it wasn't his business. “Just come out for a little bit.”

Anders looked behind him, presumably to where he'd left his phone, and shook his head. “No, I can't. Thank you though.”

Hawke shrugged. “No problem. Maybe next time?”

“Maybe,” he said quietly, his eyes averted. “Goodnight, Hawke.”

“Night,” Hawke replied before the door shut. He was left unsatisfied but knew he'd get nowhere by pressing Anders for more, so he turned and walked back down the lot to where Fenris was waiting with Isabela.

“Not tonight,” Hawke relayed. Isabela made a face and muttered under her breath.

Fenris smirked. “Told you.”

“Yeah yeah, you win this round of betting.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I'll buy your damn drink.”

Hawke saw the blinds in Anders’ trailer skewed aside, the blond peering out with the phone to his ear, but Isabela yelled at him to follow and distracted him. By the time he glanced back, the light inside was off.

 

* * *

 

Hawke made his best effort to get Anders smiling on Monday. It didn't take much, which was likely less of a testament to his sense of humor and more a sign of Anders getting more comfortable around him. They had an hour by themselves with Hawke doing a solo shoot with Anders while Fenris worked with another group of models, and there'd even been some small talk between them about their lives outside the shoot (Anders loved cats and lived in Calenhad, in an apartment granted to him by his agency). Anders seemed less nervous when he was alone, almost looking like a different person as Hawke took photos of him reclining across a chair. The outfit was not as distracting than the leather pants, but looked no less gorgeous on him: green shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, dark jeans, and black, heeled boots. Merrill had only given him a hint of eyeliner this time. Hawke was thankful that he could stare as much as he wanted from behind the lens.

Anders draped his arm across the chair and tilted his head back, eyes half closed. As Hawke was adjusting the lighting, he finally had the courage to ask, “So, are you always texting a girlfriend when you're buried in your phone?”

Anders snorted and crossed one long leg over the other. “Nothing so fun as that. Just checking in with my agent. She doesn't like to be kept in the dark.”

“Ah.“ Hawke walked around the chair, looking at the way the light fell across Anders’ form. Purely for professional reasons, of course. “Sounds more like a helicopter parent.” That explained who Anders had been talking to on Friday, but he wondered how demanding of a person this could be to have the blond living life on edge all the time.

“That's not far off. She's very interested in what I do with myself. Always checking to make sure I'm eating right and behaving.” Anders sounded too casual, it didn't fit with the way his jaw tensed. “I've told her she needs a better hobby.”

“It'd do her good.” Hawke returned to the camera, playing with the settings a little longer than he should. “Is that why you didn't come out on Friday?”

Anders shifted, eyes open now and staring at the ceiling. “You caught me at a bad time,” he said.

“Well, as long as it was your agent being a pain in the ass and nothing else. Wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

Anders turned towards him, brow furrowed “Uncomfortable?”

Maker, he was going to have to spell it out. “Thought I was being ‘too friendly’ or something. The polite way of saying I'm annoying you.”

The camera captured both Anders’ look of understanding and the resulting smirk. “No, you're not annoying me.”

“That's good,” Hawke replied. “We're going to have to keep getting along for the next two weeks, after all. Can't drive you away thinking I'm a creep, I won't have anything to do.” He wasn't trying to be self-deprecating on purpose, it was just that he really wanted to make sure that he wasn't doing anything untoward.

“Trust me, I know creeps, and you're not one of them.” Anders followed Hawke's gesture and raised his arm over his head instead of across the chair, stretching out more. “Unless you're keeping copies of all of these photos to build a shrine or something.”

“Damn, am I that obvious? Promise you won't rat me out to your helicopter agent, I don't want a scolding from her.”  He leaned around the camera and winked at Anders, who had lost his playful demeanor.

“I won't.” He was oddly determined about it, and cleared his throat, sitting up to reach for water.

Hawke stepped forward and crouched down, adopting a gentle tone. “I know you don't know me, but you can trust me, Anders.”

“What do you mean?” he asked warily. “‘Trust you’ with what?”

Hawke held up his hands. “Nothing, necessarily. I just thought that maybe you might need someone to talk to. About anything bothering you.” He was trying to be gently nudging about it, and afraid he'd pushed too far.

Anders sipped his water and recapped the bottle, meeting Hawke's eyes and giving a forced smile. “I'll keep it in mind.”

Hawke nodded and left it at that. The rest of the shoot was quiet except for some direction, but Anders didn't seem upset, just thoughtful.

“Anders is asking about you, what should I say?” Varric’s asked him later that day.

“Only good things. How much will it cost me?” Hawke replied.

“I'll take it out of your check.” The man was scribbling furtively in one of his many notebooks.

“Yeah right, you can't cash negative checks, I'm smarter than that.” He tried to peek at what Varric was writing, but got swatted for his efforts.

He attempted to not act overly pleased for the rest of the day, but Fenris caught wind of his smugness (or caught him watching Anders).

“You do know that people like him are good at manipulating others to get what they want, right?” he said warily.

“Not all the time.” Hawke wasn't in the mood to argue, even though he knew Fenris had his best interests in mind.

“There must be something to the rumors about him with the way the stories are all similar. They say he ruined another model’s career for personal gain.”

“If there stories all came from one source, that'd be why it's similar. This business is all about backstabbing and pettiness, what's to say he didn't cross someone and they retaliated with gossip?”

“You need to stop thinking with your dick,” Fenris snapped.

“Fuck you," Hawke retorted. Of all people, he thought Fenris would understand. “I'm not trying to be some white-knight champion that saves him from himself. I'm just trying to be _kind_ , no one fucking else seems to want to be kind to him.”

Fenris looked him over carefully. “Kindness isn't the problem. I don't want you to get hurt.”

Hawke knew he'd made mistakes in the past with being too trusting, but he had such a different feeling with Anders. Maybe he was still just as naive and stubborn as ever. He could listen to Fenris’ warning and still try and treat Anders like a human being, surely. “I'll be safe.” he insisted.

 

* * *

 

Anders was pacing nervously in front of Hawke's equipment. His eyes kept darting to his phone sitting on a table outside of the main set area. There was an issue with wardrobe, and Cousland needed extra time to change, so they were getting increasingly delayed. Hawke tried not to make it obvious that he was paying attention to Anders’ anxiety. He checked his watch and sure enough, it was close to four o'clock. Anders usually took a call around this time.

As if sensing Hawke's thoughts, the phone on the table buzzed loudly, an impatient rhythm that had Anders freeze in place. His eyes darted around, catching Hawke's worried expression, and he ran a hand through his hair, nails dragging obviously across his scalp.

“Let's take ten while we wait,” Hawke called out, and Anders immediately rushed to his now silent phone, gliding out of the room with it before Hawke’s words even registered with the others.

When Anders returned 15 minutes later, he looked miserable. Hawke tried to coax him out of it with a smile, but it was no use. So he decided to grab the camera off the tripod and get closer as they set up the scene.

“Alright?” he asked quietly.

Anders nodded mechanically. “I’m fine,” he said, like the phrase was so natural that it came immediately to him. “I'll be focused, don't worry.”

“Not worried about that, more worried about whatever happened on that call to make you upset.” Hawke adjusted settings on the camera, wishing Anders would look at him. “She doesn't take it well when you don't answer, does she?”

Anders shook his head slightly, toying with the artistically-distressed fringe on his shirt. “That's putting it mildly,” he replied, then fixed Hawke with a wary look, tone changing quick as lightning. “Why do you care?”

Taken aback at the sudden pivot in his tone, Hawke held his hands up as best he could with the camera still in them. “Sorry, I don't mean to pry, but….”

“But, you _are_ ,” Anders snapped.

Isabela had the good sense in timing to finally show up with Cousland, so Hawke didn't say anything else to Anders and simply took his place behind the tripod again. Fenris glared between him and Anders and muttered something under his breath, but Hawke ignored it.

The scene didn't go well. Anders wasn't focused and had difficulty maintaining any enjoyable expression, and the reprimand that Hawke had gotten ate at his stomach. Fenris finally leaned in to tell Hawke to “fuck off for a bit and calm down” in his usual friendly way.

Hawke didn't need to be told twice. He went outside to get some air.

He was kicking himself mentally, both for butting in to Anders’ business and taking their interactions personally. The man was a professional, after all, probably used to dealing with overly friendly photographers when he just wanted to finish a job and go home. He had every right to tell Hawke to back off. But he kept thinking about that first time with Anders in the feathered coat, and that wounded look in his eyes.

Now he wondered if it hadn't all been something he was reading too much into. Trying to find something that wasn't there, whether it was Anders being harassed or Anders responding to him and getting to like him. Both options seemed to be equally stupid things to focus too much on.

_You fucking idiot_ , he thought to himself as the ache moved from his stomach to his chest, and he slammed his fist into the brick wall, splitting a knuckle and swearing out loud, bringing his hand to his mouth to suck the wound.

The back door opened and Anders came out, hesitant. He frowned at Hawke's hand. “You hurt yourself.”

“It's nothing,” Hawke said, trying to be indifferent. It was a skill he should really start learning. “What are you doing out here?”

Anders winced and looked away. “I just… I'm sorry for getting upset at you. You don't deserve it.”

Hawke sighed, partly with relief and partly with frustration at being relieved. He shook his hand and wiped it on his jeans. “You don't deserve it either you know. All this stress and shit that she causes you.”

Anders shook his head. “I do. It's my fault. I know it's not normal. I know it's not… I know that she's cruel. It is what it is.”

“It doesn't have to be. You don't have to be a martyr, Anders.”

“I'm not trying to be a martyr, I'm trying to keep my livelihood!” Anders ran a hand through his hair roughly and took a breath to calm down. “The Circle has me locked in a contract for another two years still. I have to put up with it if I want to work, and if I can't model, what good am I? My looks are all I'm good for.”

“Bullshit,” Hawke said. He stepped a little closer to Anders, not wanting to scare him off. “You're still a person. You deserve respect.”

Anders stubbornly shook his head. “I can put up with it.”

That conversation angle wasn’t going anywhere, so Hawke tried another. “Why do you think you deserve it?”

Instead of answering immediately, Anders gently took Hawke's wounded hand and looked at his knuckles. Hawke's breath caught at the touch, the way Anders’ fingers delicately traced over the ridges of raw skin; the cut had stopped bleeding freely and he carefully touched the skin around it. “People get hurt because of me,” he murmured.

Hawke wanted to pull Anders close, wanted to reach inside and rip out every bad feeling Anders ever had about himself, wanted to reach through his phone and tear that woman apart with his bare hands. He didn't know what to say to express any of that; his words weren't good enough. All he could do was tighten his fingers around Anders’ hand and meet his eyes when he glanced up, looking forlorn and beautiful.

Fenris opened the door, took one look at them, cursed, and went back inside.

“That's our cue,” Hawke said, reluctantly letting go of Anders’ hand. His skin tingled across the path where the blond’s fingers had touched.

 

* * *

 

Varric was insufferable for the rest of the week. More-so than usual.

“So you and Blondie were holding hands outside, I heard.” The man had a grin that told Hawke he wouldn't be living this down anytime soon.

“Fenris is so fired,” Hawke replied gruffly.

“I mean, I noticed you two not being able to keep your eyes off each other, but to think that romance was actually blooming right under my nose all along and I didn't know? That's tragic.”

“If you write any of this down for one of your books, I will break all of your fingers.” Hawke watched Anders tie his hair up from across the set and momentarily forgot his annoyance. And his train of thought.

Varric was undeterred. “You wouldn't, you love me. Also, they make speech-to-text software, so you need a better threat.”

“So you're saying you've caught Anders checking me out?” Hawke asked, going back to the crucial part of the conversation.

Varric examined his nails, smirking. “I don't know, maybe. Oh stop that,” he scolded when Hawke threw an empty water bottle at an approaching Fenris, who deflected it easily.

“Fenris, stop telling Varric about my secret crush.”

“Implying that you think it's actually a secret,” Fenris replied, rolling his eyes. “Everyone on the set knows already.”

_Shit_ , Hawke thought. He didn't think he was being that obvious, but then again, he was nothing if not a blunt instrument. He glanced at Anders again and caught him looking, and he relished the blush on the blond’s face as he quickly turned back to the person he was talking to.  

“Do you want me to ask Anders to come with us to the bar?” Hawke asked Isabela on Friday.

“Yes, I want another free drink,” Fenris answered for her.

“Joke’s on you, I already asked him, and he said he would.” She gave Fenris a rude gesture. “Nice try though.”

Hawke tried telling himself not to get his hopes up. With his luck, Anders would psych himself out. But he still watched the clock at the bar, knowing that Anders took a call at seven and would probably show up afterward, if he showed up at all.

Anders walked in at half-past eight, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and looking nervously around the bar. Isabela screeched in joy and ran at him, giving him a hug and dragging him over to their table. Anders didn’t look like he wanted to be the center of attention in the slightest. Luckily, Isabela became distracted with Zevran and Merrill pointing out a handsome man at the bar, and Anders scooted his chair over to be closer to Hawke instead.

It was too public for any meaningful conversation, so they stuck to commenting on people in the bar, their friends’ taste in drinks, and other easy topics. Anders relaxed after his first rum and Coke, and by the time Isabela was ordering a second round of shots for everyone an hour later, he'd become well on his way to drunk. Hawke wasn't minding it though, because it meant Anders was leaning against him and giving conspiratory gossip in his ear about what was going on behind the scenes, things that Hawke didn't normally care about, but he'd let Anders recite a phone book to him if he wanted to as long as it meant he was in a good mood. He certainly wasn't being the rambunctious party animal the rumors made him out to be. He stayed by Hawke's side all night as if drawing strength from him.

By the time everyone called it a night and went home or elsewhere, Anders was using Hawke to keep his balance. “Shit,” he said, “my hotel is too far away.”

“I'll give you a ride,” Hawke offered, because he was a gentleman. Fenris was already gone, having checked out earlier once Anders started getting friendlier, but not before giving Hawke an essay via text listing all the reasons why he shouldn’t take Anders home.

Anders gave him a crooked smirk, petting Hawke's cheek. “A ride back to your place?”

_Shit,_ Hawke thought again, as heat spread through him. “You're too drunk.”

“I'm too drunk to Uber, I need someone to look after me until I sober up.” Anders had both arms around Hawke's neck now, leaning in close enough that Hawke could smell the liquor on him, and when his tone changed from sultry to anxious Hawke knew he couldn't deny him. “Please?”

Hawke lived above his photography studio. He helped Anders up the stairs and led him inside, his apartment thankfully not messy enough to be embarrassing. “I like it,” Anders insisted immediately, “It feels like you _live_ here.”

After having Anders drink water and take painkillers for his inevitable headache, Hawke led him to the bedroom, where he had an internal argument with his own willpower when Anders laid down on his unmade bed and gestured for him to join, long body stretched across the sheets, eyes heavy-lidded. “Garrett,” he whined.

“You're drunk,” Hawke insisted, for both of their benefits.

“I'm drunk,” Anders agreed, “but I want you.”

“I want you, too.” Anders frowned like he didn't believe it, so he sat on the bed and took his hand. “I _want_ you,” he repeated for emphasis, “but you're drunk.”

Anders squeezed Hawke's hand and patted the pillow next to him. “Just stay with me. Please? I won't… Won't do anything. Promise. I just don't want to be alone.” His voice got quiet, but Hawke still made out: “I'm tired of being alone.”

Hawke kicked off his shoes and settled down next to Anders on his bed, the blond immediately moving into his arms and resting his head against Hawke's chest. He knew he shouldn't read too far into this; Anders was wasted and depressed, after all, but the way Anders sighed like he could finally relax made his chest tighten.

“I turned my phone off,” Anders said. “She won't forgive me, but I'll tell her I forgot to charge it. I don't care. I just want to forget it for tonight.” He clung to Hawke's shirt, knuckles white. “She ruins everything for me, you know? To keep me ‘focused’. All the rumors started from her, I don't have proof but I just know. She makes it so that she's the only one I can count on, and she’s always telling me how lucky I am that I have someone to look out for me the way she does. As if it's a blessing to get scolded for eating an entire bagel. Such a _benevolent_ dictator.”

Hawke's arms tightened around him when Anders started shaking a little, his voice breaking. “I've been alone for so long, just her voice in my ear telling me what to do and how to live and you...you're so much. You make me feel like... like a person again.”

“Good,” Hawke said, worried anew at how bony Anders felt in his arms. “You deserve so much more.”

“I don’t want to go home.” Anders laughed hollowly. Hawke's shirt was damp with tears. “I don't know what else I want anymore, other than you. I just know I don't want to go home. I'm sorry, I'm ridiculous.”

“It's okay. You can trust me.”

“I do.” Anders looked up at him with such open emotion that Hawke couldn't stop himself, he leaned down and kissed him. It was fairly chaste, but Anders melted into it, caressing his face, his beard, his chest, like he wanted reassurance that Hawke was real. “Can I stay?” he asked softly after they broke apart.

“As long as you want,” Hawke replied, lips brushing his forehead. Anders tucked himself against Hawke's chest, and they fell asleep in each other's arms.

When Hawke woke up in the early morning, his heart sank when he realized the other half of the bed was empty and cold. There was no sign that Anders had even been in his apartment, other than the lingering smell of his shampoo on Hawke's pillow. Hawke passed out again face-first against it.

 

* * *

 

Regretting not asking for Anders’ number earlier, Hawke vowed to get it from him on Monday. He was afraid the whole weekend that Anders was laying alone and sad in his hotel room, but he was also hurt that he'd left without so much as a note.

Anders only glanced his way when he arrived. He didn't say a word, just went right to wardrobe. If looks could kill, Fenris would have murdered him. “I told you,” he said, but he wasn't pleased in the slightest.

Hawke didn't have a response to offer, so he buckled down and tried to focus on finishing the shoot. It was only another week, and then he could get his life back to normal, with no Anders to worry about. But as the day went on, he just got more angry. Angry at himself mostly, but also mad that Anders was playing him for a fool, or was at least too selfish to understand what he was doing.

He made up his mind to talk to Anders at lunch, and opened the trailer door after getting no response to his knock. Anders was sitting on the floor, staring at the wall with his phone in his hand.

“What the fuck,” Hawke said. He wanted to be confident and it all evaporated in a moment. It came out more pleading that angry.

“She found out about you,” Anders said blankly. “I'm sorry.”

“What do you mean, she found out?” Hawke would tear through the building if he had to, none of his friends would have said anything to anyone. It must have been one of the other models.

“I mean, she _found out_ that I’m getting close to you, Garrett.” Anders unlocked his phone and pulled up his voicemail, showing Hawke 14 messages left from ten o’clock to two o'clock Saturday morning. “You can listen if you want, but they're all either ‘How could you betray me like this, after all I've done for you’ and ‘He's only going to fuck you and leave you, you slut’.” Anders mimicked her voice and then faked a laugh. ”She's very upset.”

“Anders,” Hawke said, crouching down before him, “I'm not afraid of her.”

“You should be, she'll ruin you. It's what she does. Start making rumors that you harassed me, or tried to assault me, or worse. It's what she did to Karl years ago. I wouldn't leave him so she spread vile things about him, and he couldn't get work anywhere and blamed me for it.” Anders shook his head. “I won't let her do that to you.”

“I’d like to see her try to start shit. Varric will set everyone straight.” Maybe he had more faith in his friend than he should, but the man was a figure in the industry and his word carried some weight.

“I don't want you to hate me, too,” Anders put his face in his hands. Hawke sat down, leaning back against the trailer wall next to him. “I'm sorry I left like that, I woke up and saw all those voicemails and panicked.”

“You know you need to get free from her,” Hawke said gently.

“Of course I do,” Anders snapped. “But I don't know _how_ , I'm locked into a contract and I can't change agents, everyone in the Circle knows her. it wouldn’t be any better for me even if I could find someone else there. And they own everything I have, my apartment, all my things… “ Hawke took his hand, and he squeezed it absently. “She owns me.”

Hawke turned to face him directly, urging him to meet his eyes. “She doesn't, and she won't. We'll figure something out. Varric's bound to know someone who can break your contract and get you free.”

Anders bit his lip nervously. “I don't know.”

“Trust me,” Hawke said. “We’ll talk to him tonight and see what he says.” Anders didn't look convinced, but Hawke smiled anyway. “It'll be alright.”

 

* * *

 

Luckily for them, Varric did know someone in contract law. He put the man on speakerphone in his office, and Anders relayed what details he remembered from his contract, along with some of the mental abuses he suffered under his agent. It was a start, and enough for Kristoff to get obviously upset over Anders’ situation.

“They can't do this to you, it's unjust,” he insisted. “I'll drive down to meet you tomorrow.”

Anders was pessimistic about the entire situation, thinking everyone was wasting their time over him, but Hawke and Varric both agreed that this was something that needed to stop.

“There's probably others at the Circle just like you, maybe even someone else under Meredith that feels just as hopeless.” Varric steepled his fingers in the way he did when he wanted to seem crafty. “We might be able to take the the entire agency down at once.”

Anders looked uncertain, but the idea of others in his position seemed to bolster his resolve. “I don't know about that, but if Meredith goes down, that would be a start.”

True to his word, Kristoff arrived the next day and stayed for the rest of the week. Inbetween finishing the fashion shoot and answering his agent’s calls as normal, he and Anders discussed how to negotiate Anders’ freedom. Kristoff argued that Meredith broke the contract by not adhering to the terms, since part of her responsibility was to look out for his safety and well-being when sending him to jobs. If she was actively manipulating him and abusing him, that was her fault and the contract could be nullified.

And thankfully, Anders had a record of all of the voicemails she’d left and text messages she'd sent in the past year, which was more than enough evidence against her.

It did mean that Anders had to go back to Calenhad and get his affairs in order, though, and he agreed to have Hawke drop him off at the airport. It was the literal least thing that he could do.

Fenris waited in the car, all his commentary subdued for Hawke's sake as the two of them embraced at the departures drop-off point. “You sure you don't want me to come with?” Hawke asked.

“I'm sure. this is something that I have to do now. You've already done so much. I need to see it through,” Anders said.

Hawke understood, even if part of him was afraid that Anders would never come back after this. The fear lessened when Anders kissed him softly and clung to him like he never wanted to let go. They'd exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch. “You don't have to rush to respond to me, I'm not her,” Hawke reminded him.

“I know. Maybe I will anyway, but only because I want to.” Anders smirked and stepped back, still with his hands on Hawke's chest. ”I'll miss you.”

“Then come back soon,” Hawke said.

Anders nodded and took a final step back, hand on his suitcase. When Fenris called out to him suddenly he looked shocked, but went over to speak to him anyway, ducking his head down to the window to listen to the man's parting words. Neither of them looked angry afterward, which Hawke counted as a blessing.

“What did you say to him?” Hawke asked, once Anders was through the doors and out of sight.

Fenris put the car into gear and deftly merged into traffic. “I told him not to hate himself for being afraid for so long,” he replied. “and that it gets easier.”

“That’s probably the nicest thing you could ever say to him,” Hawke patted Fenris’ hair.

“He's still an idiot,” Fenris grumbled. “And so are you. You're perfect for each other.”

“It’s true,” Hawke said. He'd known it from the start, after all.

 

* * *

 

It took two months for Anders to come back to Kirkwall. In the meantime, he’d kept Hawke informed of how the legal process was going, and how satisfying it was to see Meredith be on the defensive. Hawke and Kristoff had also persuaded him to start counseling to manage the emotional withdrawal from his abusive situation and other lingering negativity in his life. They’d also spent hours texting and talking to each other; flirting, getting to know each other more, and even had a few conversations that went dangerously close to sexting. They’d both agreed to wait until they saw each other again to take that step in their relationship. Even though Hawke had situational regrets about it, he knew it would be worth it. Besides, Anders had enough to worry about with trying to put his life back together.

The day after Anders’ contract with the Circle was finally nullified, the blond showed up at Hawke’s studio in Lowtown with two bags carrying his worldly possessions, an earring in his right ear, and looking happier and healthier than he ever had before. It was such a drastic change from the last time that Hawke had seen him that the only stupid thing he could say was, “I see you’ve been eating a lot of bagels.”

Thankfully, Anders laughed and didn’t take offense. “It’s still a work-in-progress. But yes, I’m allowing myself to eat like a human being again. I assume you’re alright with that?” He spread his arms and gestured to himself, unable to hide his uncertainty. Hawke answered by putting his arms around his (no longer dangerously bony) waist and tugging him close.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

Anders let out a content noise and rewarded Hawke with a kiss. “Is Fenris here?” he asked, looking around the studio.

“No, he decided to take the rest of the day off. He says ‘Hi,’ though.” It wasn't entirely accurate, Fenris had actually said, “You’d better not fuck all over this place or I'm never coming back.”

Anders seemed to understand the unspoken discrepancy in the message and smirked. “I'm sure he does.”

Hawke showed Anders around the studio, the space mostly bare with a sofa and a few set pieces, along with Fenris and Hawke's equipment. Along one wall were some framed pictures that they'd done, ones that they were particularly proud of, and Hawke pointed out his sister Bethany with Isabela in one of them. The photo at the end was the side profile shot of Anders in his feathered coat, eyes half closed and head tilted down, his hands in the feathered lapels of the coat.

“I was nervous that first day,” he said, examining it. “I didn't know what to expect with you or anyone else. But you made me feel so comfortable so quickly, I don't know how.”

“It was the bad jokes,” Hawke said solemnly.

Anders snorted. “No, it was probably your biceps.”

Hawke grinned, triumphant. “I knew they were good for something.”

“I’m sure they're good for a lot of things,” Anders said flirtatiously.

Hawke thought about making some specific suggestions. Anders winked and made his way to the sofa set up in front of Hawke's equipment, sitting with one leg tucked under him. His arms rested along the back and he gave Hawke a smile. “You said you'd take my picture when it was all finished, didn't you?”

“I did.” Hawke stepped forward and patted his camera appreciatively. “But I'm afraid it'll make you realize how pretty you are, and your ego will overtake the world.”

“Unlikely,” Anders replied, but he was still smiling. Seems there was some progress already made with the counseling, then, if he was allowing Hawke to compliment him.

Hawke readied everything for an impromptu photo shoot, not planning on doing anything special but wanting the best for Anders anyway. As he framed the scene, he casually said, “So, is this going to also include the _other photos_ you suggested I take?” It had been too good a mental image to ever forget after Anders texted him the idea the other night, calling it "a reward for saving him".

The blond’s blush went all the way under his t-shirt. “Maybe. It depends on if you have business with anyone else tonight.”

Hawke took the first few photos to test the settings, and kept his tone playful; he didn't want to push Anders too far too quickly. “My schedule is clear for the rest of the week. You're the only thing I want to focus on.”

“Ah” Anders said, and sat back on the sofa. “Then I guess we'll just have to see where the mood takes us.”

Hawke looked around the camera, catching Anders’ eye. “It only takes us as far as you want.” Anders didn’t reply, but his expression softened. Regardless of his desires, Hawke was just happy to have Anders here again, in whatever way he could.

The playfulness continued for the next few minutes, with Anders making exaggerated kissy-faces at the camera that Hawke found endlessly endearing, laughing at the directions given to him in a purposefully bad Orlesian accent, and acting so carefree and happy that Hawke nearly forgot about the supposed inappropriateness of the shoot.

Until Anders moved to lay down across the sofa, one leg bent, and started tracing his fingers across the collar of his shirt. “Are you going to keep these for your secret shrine collection, too?”

“Absolutely, though I think I’ll need to move somewhere with a bigger closet to store it in,” Hawke said, then noticed that Anders’ hands were moving slowly down his chest. He cleared his throat and continued shooting, reframing the view. The blond’s hands didn’t stop until they reached the hem of his t-shirt and slipped underneath, just barely lifting to show his stomach. Heat built sharply, low in Hawke’s gut and he breathed Anders’ name softly.

“Hmm?” Anders asked innocently. “It’s very warm in here.” The fabric rose, revealing his navel, the ridge of his ribs under pale skin dotted with freckles.

“Yeah, it is,” Hawke replied. He peeked around the camera, wanting a final confirmation that this was how things were going to progress, and Anders met his gaze and licked his lips. _Holy fuck_ , Hawke thought, and rested his free hand on the tripod to steady himself.

His focus returned to the camera, capturing more images of Anders touching his chest and stomach, his fingers teasing his nipples to hardness, all the while making soft noises that went straight to Hawke's cock. Anders dragged his nails down his stomach and slid his fingers under the waistband of his jeans, moving the fabric down to reveal the thin trail of hair under his navel. He was obviously hard, and when he touched himself inside his jeans Hawke let out an undignified noise of frustration.

Anders laughed breathily. “You don't like it when I tease?”

“I like it too much," Hawke growled.

Anders bit his lip and fingered his zipper. “Mr. Hawke, I'm ready for my closeup.”

“Maker’s breath,” Hawke huffed, “You're too much.” Despite the ridiculous line, it did nothing to diminish his arousal. “I thought I was the one providing direction.”

“Not anymore. Now you just get to watch,” Anders purred, and finally unfastened his jeans, raising his hips to slide them down, palms flat, pushing his underwear down at the same time until he freed his cock. Hawke’s grip on the tripod tightened and though he thought about zooming in on Anders running his fingers lightly along his shaft, he wanted to keep Anders’ face in frame; the way Anders’ eyes got heavy and his mouth fell open as he gently teased himself, until his fingers came away wet from the head of his cock, was just as intensely hot.

When Anders finally wrapped a hand fully around himself and began stroking slowly, his hips rocking up slightly into it, Hawke almost abandoned the camera altogether. The blond seemed to sense his impatience and fixed his eyes on him. “Don’t stop,” he moaned. “Want you to watch.”

Hawke cursed and kept shooting, unable to do anything else as Anders jerked off, dimly afraid of bending the metal on the tripod with how strong he was gripping it. It was either that get himself off too, and he wanted to wait for it. Wanted to watch Anders tremble and shudder, his cock flushed and leaking now onto his stomach, panting and making the most beautiful noises as he pleasured himself.

“Oh fuck, I'm close,” Anders’ other hand dragged his nails across his thighs, hips jerking up to fuck his fist, and he gasped in ragged breaths.

“Come for me, Anders,” Hawke said, his own voice breathless.

Anders’ body curled forward as he came, spurting across his stomach with a ragged cry that was almost Hawke's name, trembling and shaking on the couch while Hawke still greedily captured it all on camera, coveting every moment of Anders’ pleasure. He fucking ached with how badly he wanted him, but he wouldn't move an inch until he received permission.

Anders caught his breath on the sofa as Hawke took one final photo, taking in his messy stomach and his dazed expression, his hand still around his cock, and Anders opened his eyes, free hand held out towards him. “Garrett,” he moaned, beckoning him, and all Hawke’s restraint broke.

He nearly launched himself at Anders, bracing a knee beside him on the sofa to bend down and kiss him, hot and passionate, as his hands worked to undo his jeans. Anders moaned and joined his hand with Hawke’s to stroke him off, his fingers still wet with his own cum, Hawke panting against his lips, murmuring curses. Having Anders’ hand wrapped around his own was nearly too much, and after watching Anders he knew he’d come quickly. His orgasm still knocked the breath from him, gasping as he spilled across Anders’ stomach as the blond groaned, “ _Yes_ , come all over me.”

“Fuck,” Hawke said quietly. He trailed his fingers through the mess, and Anders shivered.

“Take me to bed,” Anders said, nuzzling Hawke’s neck. “Don't say no.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Hawke growled, taking Anders’ hand and helping him up.

* * *

Hawke had a horrible sense of déjà vu when he woke in the early morning to an empty bed. This time, the sheets still had lingering warmth to them, and he blearily looked around the room, noticing Anders’ clothes still on the floor.

He found Anders on the balcony overlooking Lowtown, curled up in one of Hawke's oversized shirts on the old loveseat Hawke used as patio furniture. He scooted over when Hawke sat down heavily next to him, folding himself against Hawke’s frame. Hawke hadn't bothered to put on anything but boxers, it was too early to care about public indecency.

“Do you always wake up at dawn, cos I'm going to file a complaint,“ Hawke mumbled, trying to keep his eyes open.

“No, not usually. I just woke up and had a lot to think about.” Hawke's hand captured his and squeezed it, and he answered the unspoken question “I'm alright. Just happy,” he said, and smirked up at Hawke. “And sore.”

“My bad,” Hawke said with a chuckle. He brought Anders’ hand to his lips. ”What were you thinking about?“

Anders sighed. “Just... everything that's happened. How quickly all this took, even though it didn't feel like it. How much I care about you. How I'll have to find a new place to live.”

“Stay here,” Hawke said immediately. “For as long as you want. I still mean it.”

“You silly man,” Anders said fondly, “You say that now, but wait until I fill your apartment with cats.”

Hawke grumbled and sighed with resignation. “I'm filing two complaints, where do I send them?”

“To me, because I'm going to be a free agent now. I'll get to work whatever jobs I want.” Anders freed his hand and wrapped his arm around Hawke, snuggling close. “I'll probably only work with one photographer from now on, though. Someone I can trust.”

There was a lot that Hawke wanted to say to that, but it seemed too early in the morning for declarations of love (but not too early in their relationship, and he imagined Anders would think the same with the way he still held on tightly to Hawke). He should wait at least until the sun was up. It was starting to peek over the horizon between the mass of downtown buildings, so he settled down into the loveseat and watched the dawn break with Anders in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on [tumblr](http://un-shit-yourself.tumblr.com) to see what else I scream about.


End file.
